


Hold me

by Szpurka



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: #merlinmemorymonth, Affection, Character Study, Feels, Fluff, Hugs, Idiots in Love, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 01:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szpurka/pseuds/Szpurka
Summary: Affections yearned and affections given. Or Arthur and various people in his life





	Hold me

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for MerilnMemoryMonth. It's a third date - May 9 and I chose another Path 3 - Affection yearned / Affection given
> 
> Behold a touch-starved Arthur

**Uther**

Uther was never an affectionate man. He was not cold. Stern - yes, distant - yes. He was a man of action, never dwelling on emotions and feelings. A true knight, a true king…

And to become a true knight, a true prince and a true king Arthur learned to be just like him. When the serving boys or the royal’s kids went on adventures, playing with War with wooden swords, Arthur sat on his bum by the desk with Pellinore or other scholar learning the alphabet and then words like ‘supercilious’ and ‘abhorrent’, and then the numbers like ‘20 459 people live in Camelot tight this moment’, and then how much tax the people have to pay to the king monthly and which royals want Arthur dead and who he should become friends with for future alliances.

He was a very serious child, very obedient, quiet as a mouse, but always watching, considering. Uther praised him for it. On his good days, he even clasped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur let the tears of happiness stream down his cheeks with his head under the bed covers at night.

Because whatever they did and whatever they didn’t always say, they were them.

Father and son.

  


**Morgana**

 And then Morgana came to live with them.

She was obnoxious and whiny and head-strong and outspoken and… and very very angry - only later Arthur learned that she was there because her father died and the closest family she had was Uther, the very best friend of Gorlois.

They were both similar of age - Arthur being 10 and Morgana 12.

They did _not_ get along.

Arthur hated her for many things. For speaking aloud when something was not to her satisfaction or she had any issues with how servants were treated or when someone was being mean. When Arthur didn’t notice these things or just didn’t thought them that important.

Uther would smile at her indulgently and say to the closest adult that she was a soft hearted creature with the soul of a warrior. He sounded so proud of her.

She got away with anything.

Teasing Arthur mercilessly for his scratchy penmanship or falling asleep with a book and drooling (thought Arthur definitely was not drooling, thank you very much) or whatever else she thought he did wrong. It was driving him crazy! How dare even dare she. She was ruining everything.

But then. Then one day she sneak up to his chamber in the middle of the night, somehow without the guards noticing. She shook his shoulder a bit and he did not screamed like a girl, okay? She just shook her head and crawled under the covers with him, in his white nightdress and all.

“Morgana!” he hissed, face hot and probably red as a tomato. As little as Arthur knew about girls, this was not proper. If someone would see Prince of Camelot with Lady Morgana in his bed they would… they would think all sorts of horrible things.

She just sniffled and turned her back to him, ordering him to shut up and just let her sleep there. Her voice sounded weird, all wobbly and watery, and she sniffled a few times like she was crying. And Arthur just lied there on his back, rigid, arms to his sides, on the other side of the bed. He listened to Morgana cry for a long time, all this time thinking of something he could say or do to comfort her. Nothing came to mind.

When he woke up, Morgana was gone, but Arthur still could feel a warm spot on the bed sheets where she slept and the pillow there was a bit wet.

From this day onwards they came to a mutual silent agreement. When Morgana would feel sad, she would sneak to his room and sleep in his bed and Arthur would not tell Uther about this. It wasn’t anything dangerous, they weren’t doing anything wrong or harmful.

It was shocking, to be honest, to see the confident headstrong Morgana shaking and crying or looking so sad and tired.

Arthur promised himself he will be strong for her.

He was still the same Arthur, but he let himself be hugged or touched by Morgana who was still the same Morgana, but somehow not. She still would tease him and make fun of him, but at least Arthur knew she wasn’t a witch with a heart of stone.

When they learned to tolerate each other they started to meet each other and play in the gardens in the sun with Pellinore watching them by the apple tree. Sometimes they would wait for Pellinore to start snoring and they would race to the lake, find sticks and imagine they were both knights in a battle of life and death. Arthur had to train with a sword everyday and Morgana had to wear dressed which were very impractical, so he mostly was the winner, but sometimes Morgana used dirty tricks. Like pushed him into the lake, laughing at his spluttering.

“Do you yield, Prince Arthur of Camelot, before the mighty Lady Morgana?”

“No way!” He would shout and charge at her with mud from the lake, declaring war.

After Pellinore found them they were wet, their finest clothes covered in mud. Uther would berate them for the whole dinner and they were nodding along saying “Yes, father” or “Of course, sire” while sending each other silly looks while the king wasn’t looking and trying desperately not to laugh.

He was the one who told Uther to let someone teach Morgana how to wield a sword, so even if she was ever in danger she would fight her way out of it. Uther relented after the fifth attempt, announcing at supper that Morgana would begin training twice a week with Kay, who was old as dirt but a very good swordsman at his time, and a better teacher.

Just as Uther left Morgana leapt form her seat into Arthur’s arms, thanking him two thousand times and squeezing the life out of him. He rolled his eyes but held her in his steady arms.

The hug was… well. something new.

See, Arthur just wasn’t that kind of person that was very touchy. He was more practical, a man of action, a knight and a prince. He didn’t want to show favoritism with people so he generally didn’t touch them. God forbid he would help some servant girl with a tray of food and she would get ideas. He was the future king, he couldn’t afford for people to get ideas. As a king he couldn’t keep the relationships he had before, everyone told him that.

And those hugs and tugging at his ear or whatever that Morgana did to him were just sibling things.

But thanks to her he was more used to the affection and having an annoying older sister filled that void that he wasn’t aware of that Uther left in his heart.

Arthur didn’t wait for Uther affections anymore, but he accepted them with grace as sparse and brief as they may be.

He taught her how to fight a real opponent, both with a sword, a dagger and hand to hand, and she taught him how to dance, because he was terrible at it. And dancing with Kay was nothing as dancing with a woman. Though, as he and Morgana, bickered their whole way into their lessons. Morgana was trying to lead or rather drag Arthur all over the floor and Arthur was softening his blows, when they fought.

And they lived.

Somehow.

Brother and sister.

  


**Gaius**

Gaius was always just...  there. Uther’s trusty advisor, irreplaceable court physician and Camelot moral compass. Always kind and playful, one of few who could get through Arthur’s stubbornness and thick skull, especially in his teenage years.

After a fight with Morgana or Uther he used to hide in Gaius’ workshop, not particularly interested in potions and herbs would hide in that one spare chamber with a book or two, or doing his required readings by the light of that sole window with the chatter of Gaius and his patients behind the door and a whistle of the wind coming through the window.

There would always come a guard or two asking if Gaius had seen the prince, and Arthur would freeze in terror every time, but Gaius would always graciously reply that if he sees the prince he’ll immediately say.

And then he would go to the chamber with a pot of scalding hot tea, that tasted more like boiling water than anything, and Arthur would let it rest for a good while before drinking it like it was water.

Gaius would pat his shoulder, his head or knee, call him some outrageous things like ‘my boy’ - Arthur was fourteen, he was _a man_ , thank you very much - and ask him to forgive Morgana or his father, because they have his best interest at heart.

And they were older, so they knew better.

Arthur would scoff at that. Gaius would give him the eyebrow. And Arthur would sigh and say, “ _Fiiine_ ,” with the most dramatic roll of his eyes.

He was always the future’s king patient teacher.

  


**Guinevere**

Ever since he started to pay attention to girls, things have been… awkward.

His father made it his mission to make Arthur meet any princess that haven’t been married yet in all the kingdom. Some of them have been a lot younger than him - he remembers Lady Matilda, barey 12 years old, a child really - and a lot older - dear god, princess Helena was 22 to Arthur’s 16.

It never felt right. For some reason. Wasn’t he supposed to know how to do this? How to talk to girls? Even maybe flirt with some of the maids or peasant girls who sometimes were giving him the moon eyes and talking about him with cheeks red and giggling.

All the knights were always talking about their adventured - bedding girls and visiting whore houses. They apparently deemed him old enough to talk openly about those things and tease him harmlessly about how he couldn’t just go and fuck anyone he wanted, less he gets one of them knocked up and giving him a bastard from the side.

Those kinds of chatter got on his nerves. Not only because of the language they used - that was not a proper way to talk about ladies, whether they had a title or not - but also because Arthur was not interested in _those_ kinds of things.

Well, he was.

As in, his right hand got a lot of action in his spare time. But _being_ with a girl, that was something intimate, something he got no idea how to even act in those kinds of situations.

And he didn’t really know how that was supposed to happen, because he barely could string two words together to any woman besides Morgana.

And with Morgana there were insults and creaming and saying things they didn’t mean with mutual understanding that they cared about each other and never really meant any of the harmful things they’ve said.

But you couldn’t talk to women how Arthur talked to Morgana. Actually, he was pretty sure it was a pretty quick way to get himself slapped in the face. Or not slapped in the face, because they would be too afraid to say no to the prince.

Ugh. Arthur was just not good with girls, alright?

Even with… even with Guinevere.

He loved her. She was his first love and first kiss. And she was a wonderful person, one he could grow used to loving. Truly. She had a kind heart and gentle smile, and gentle touch and soft body.

And Arthur was afraid of her like no other thing he faced.

She was delicate, soft and vulnerable, breakable. As much she was fierce and loyal and brave there was no denying that fact.

And Arthur felt inadequate most of the time. Too big, too clumsy, too tongue-tied. Sweaty and nervous and awkward. Always on his best manners, always showing his good side, always reminding himself of that. Don’t be too rough. Don’t complain. Don’t do anything to sadden her. Don’t do make her worry. Be this. Be that. Don’t be that.

It was exhausting.

And one time when they were kissing in a dark corridor, panting and sweaty their hips met for the briefest moment and they both jumped apart.

No, no, no. They were not ready for that.

And in the back of Arthur’s mind the darkest thought was born, that maybe he would never be ready.

So Gwen stayed only that to him.

The prince’s first love.

  


**Knights**

 With men it was so easy. With the knights he could be the most himself - he could brag and whine and be grumpy and shout and be mad and be rough. After first meeting of the swords or after first battle together there was a connection like any other.

They would spent they practices fighting each other till they were sweaty and dirty and stinking. And women would always shake their heads, scrunch their noses and roll their eyes.

But there was something pure, Arthur thought. No thinking, just instinct and muscle memory. No fake politeness, no awkwardness, no nervousness. It was something primal. And Arthur relished in it.

The most true Arthur was to himself was when he was fighting. He was rough and mean and merciless. But then after the fight, it was all worth it. There were small fires and aweful cooked stew and laughter and stories and friendship like any other.

They were the brothers Arthur never had.

  


**Merlin**

 But of course none of those people couldn’t rile him up like Merlin did.

Merlin was… different.

Since the very beginning he was awfully touchy-feely, all dopey smiles and girly laughs and giggles. And all sharp knees and elbows, and big ears and clear eyes.

Gods, Arthur _despised_ him.

Despised his uselessness, his laziness, his love for the tavern, his talkativeness, his insults.

Despised his easy affection, confidence, his talkativeness, his insults.

Despised that Merlin never knew when to back down. That he risked his life for the people he barely knew.

Besides Merlin was literally the worst manservant the world has ever seen. He not only treated Arthur, his prince, like an equal, but also like an annoying friend. Rolling his eyes and firing insults at Arthur whenever it suited him, regardless of who was around to witness it.

Their relationship gained a reputation among the royal court as well as the knights and even servants.

Arthur usually didn’t like to listen to rumors and gossip, deeming it as a fleeting fancy and frivolous activity, something to keep people occupied at work or to get a bit of excitement from a boredom. But as the months and years were going by the rumors didn’t stop. They weren’t even muttered in hushed whispers between maids when they washed the prince’s shirts. Some of those utterly ridiculous lies were spoken aloud with a certainly worth the best a scholar.

Arthur found them all so unbelievable he couldn’t believe his ears when Merlin reported them back to him, having listened to a conversation here and there or when his father asked him bluntly about the particular reason he might still keep his idiotic manservant around.

Every time when someone pointed it out Arthur would snort and laugh and shake his head. But when people didn’t speak of it aloud, he couldn’t deny their accusations. And there were times… there were times when he and Merlin would stand too close to be proper or share a laugh or a smile, or catch each other's eyes across the room, or when they seemed to hold entire conversations without uttering a word.

Then someone would snort or giggle or roll his eyes or just look at them with mixed emotions - sometimes supportive or sometimes with disgust. And Arthur not knowing what to do, would take a step back, hit Merlin with his glove over the back of his head or his smile would disappear, eyes fixed on anything else than his manservant. He would sometimes dare a glance back only to see Merlin disappointed - or cheerful enough turning to whoever he was talking to previously. Arthur would swallow the sinking feeling in his stomach, looking proud and proper as a future king should.

There were also something else that seemed to make Merlin a special case. Arthur took longer than he will ever admit to himself in figuring out what it was that Arthur did that made people speculate about the nature of their relationship. It didn’t turned out to be something he did, but something he did _not_ do.

He did not berate Merlin for touching him.

And it was a stupid, little thing, wasn’t it? Merlin was his manservant, he was supposed to touch him, right? Help him get on his horse and correct the collar of his shirt, make him look presentable in public. All that was right, but only after Arthur thought about it, _really_ thought about it, did he realize how much Merlin touched him.

Was he like that with Gaius or Gwen? He seemed affectionate with them as well as with his mother when she visited from time to time. Though with Gwen he always kept a polite distance, and he seemed to be comfortable with the knights’ rough hugs, when Lancelot ruffles his hair or Gwaine threw an arm across his shoulders.

In other words - Merlin usually was not the one to initiate physical contact.

Only Arthur seemed to be an exception. Maybe his frequent touched stemmed from habit or affection, Arthur was still unnerved by it.

Merlin was a complete mystery.

Since the beginning the hand on Arthur’s thigh after he settled on his horse was not professional. The ghost of fingers across his collarbone after lacing his shirt could be described as deliberate. The arms around him as he was tying Arthur’s belt lingered more than was appropriate. When he brushed Arthur’s hair, his fingers would tighten in the soft strands - well cleaned and oiled in a bath - and Merlin looking at them with fascination. Holding a towel for Arthur after a bath and brushing his body with reverence.

The only times Merlin was a good manservant were the ones where Arthur’s body was concerned.

And it carried, without Arthur’s knowledge, outside his chambers.

How could he be so stupid? So careless?

He looked back on all those times and… Arthur would feel himself getting annoyed at some visiting royal or other and with Merlin’s fingers curling around his bicep, forearm or shoulder his anger would dissipate in a second flat.

Merlin would be making rounds around the tables during a feast and pouring wine, laughing and joking with some knights and then he would get Arthur a drink, while leaning to whisper, voice a low rasp, how in all hells they can stomach this terrible thing called wine. And Arthur would sputter - it was the best wine in all the Camelot, thank you very much - then smirk, while taking the jug from Merlin’s hands. Merlin would look at him quizzically while Arthur’s cup would get so full it was a second from spilling. Then he would politely ask Merlin to drink. Merlin would glare daggers at him, but as they were in the royal company and so close to the king, he could not refuse. Besides, Merlin would first die than admit back out of a challenge, especially to prove Arthur wrong.

Arthur would hand him the cup and watch with smug satisfaction as Merlin send him a glare and downed all of it in one go. Lips touching where Arthur touched just a moment ago, licking his bottom lip and settling the cup down, before excusing himself.

Morgana would elbow Arthur in the ribs and Uther would hiss at him to keep it private. Arthur would look around at their guests and knights who immediately turned to their previous conversations, sending Merlin curious glances for the rest of the night. Arthur couldn’t for the life of him figure out what was that all about.

No one else would even attempt to touch Arthur in that manner. Anyone else would get thrown into the dungeon for such an offence.

Arthur was not an affectionate man. Maybe not like his father, but he didn’t like to be touched without his permission. He more often than not found himself awkward with physical affection. He avoided it like plague.

But with Merlin…

Why with Merlin, of all people? That was the greatest mystery of all.

After Arthur realized it he shied away from Merlin’s touch. He began to dress himself and snapped when Merlin tried to get too close to him both privately and in public.

And it took a month or so but Merlin eventually did stop touching him unnecessarily, he kept his distance, he caught himself before he could do something stupid. And Arthur noticed all of it.

Arthur felt conflicted. He wanted to show maybe himself more than anyone than he could survive without this. Because sooner or later he would have to. He would be king and kings weren’t codependent on their manservants. Kings didn’t desperately wait for them to dress or undress them in their chambers, they didn’t relish in the fingers stroking his hair, they didn’t… _need_ any one those things. They didn’t crave the almost hugs more desperately than anything in their live.

They didn’t want to feel their warmth, their soft lips upon theirs, their fingers tugging at his hair in a manner more intimate than Arthur ever considered before. They didn’t crave their conversations and bickering and their smiles, their shared moments, sacred in their simplicity and difficulty at the same time.

But...

Gods, they both were idiots, Arthur decided. He excused himself from the meal with Morgana and his father, feigning an excuse of not feeling well. And just as the door closed behind him he ran and ran, and ran…

Until he bumped into someone. And it was not coincidence, it was fate that Merlin was grabbing his shirt, and he was grabbing Merlin’s elbows to steady him, before both of them realized who was standing before then.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed with relief. He didn’t see Merlin for a whole day, having ordered him just this morning to clean the stables and not show his face for at least two days for no particular reason.

“Arthur,” Merlin said fierce and angry, jutting his chin.

Before either of them could speak another word to make things even worse, Arthur threw his hands on Merlin’s neck and his his face in those black curls, inhaling and exhaling shakily.

Dear gods, dear gods, how he had missed it. How he had missed Merlin. How could he ever be so blind and stupid and…

“Arthur, what…” Merlin stood still as a statue and unsure.

Arthur couldn’t say what he meant. The words just couldn’t come to him. They never did when he needed them. The only thing he could say was, “Hold me… Just hold me, for now.”

They clung to each other, their embrace crushing the air out of them, melding their bones and their hearts into one.

Merlin squeezed him around the middle and someone let out a sob, maybe it was him, maybe it was Merlin. Arthur didn’t care, didn’t care who saw them, who might be passing by the brightly lit corridor, he just knew that whatever people would say about them… it wasn’t true.

The bond that they shared run deeper than ever they could comprehend. But they still stayed themselves.

They stayed Arthur and Merlin.

And what they were to each other they will define for themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> [If you liked my story, consider buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/szpurka)
> 
> Lemme just tell you how much I hate it. I wrote it in a hurry (I promise another one would be well thought out and checked for mistakes). And I just don't like it how it turned out, in my mind it was so much better! T__T
> 
> But I hope you at least enjoy the general idea, if not execution :D 
> 
> Talk to me:  
> [tumblr](https://w-szpurka.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/szpurkawrites)  
> e-mail: szpurkawrites@gmail.com
> 
> I also encourage you to visit [my site](https://szpurka.com/), because I'm just starting and it's important to me, and I have an actual physical novel in the making, so maybe if you're interested in that you can ask me about it or smth :D


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